Maze of Doom
by skittlesgirl99
Summary: Turn left, turn right, turn left again. This all looks familiar. I've been going in circles. When will the confusion end? Let the 32nd Annual Hunger Games begin. FF- THIS IS NOT AN INTERACTIVE STORY. PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT DOWN. IT IS DIFFERENT FROM THE ONE BEFORE, JUST THE SAME NAME.
1. The Perils of Killian Taylor

**Okay, after this has been deleted, I'm putting it up again. But this version is not interactive. DO YOU HEAR THAT, FF OFFICALS? I'm not asking anyone for their own tribute ideas. I already have tribute ideas given to me by other people for another story (This doesn't count as the other story they took down because I changed a few words.) . Therefore, this story is not interactive and is not the (exact) same story as before.**

**Killian Taylor**

No one thinks I'm good enough. No one knows I _can _do it. Sure, Garna could do it if she wanted to, but she doesn't, so of course her little sister can't accomplish anything. Not that I blame Garna.

We get along fairly well together for two siblings. My parents couldn't be prouder of the both of us. At least they believe I can do it. In fact, it was their idea I prove to everyone else that I can do it. I may be younger, but I think it's brilliant.

The Hunger Games aren't exactly Garna's thing. She tried to discourage me, she tried to tell me I'd be killed and then stuffed in a wooden box to be sent home. I didn't know what she talking about. For a moment she sounded like everyone else in my District.

I shrugged it off. Then, I added her to the list of people I'd have to prove wrong. I wish Garna was more encouraging. She's my sister, and there's nothing like a sibling telling you, "You can do it. I believe in you."

I wake up with a smile on my face. Today is reaping day. Or, in my case, volunteering day. I just hope no one else messes it up for me. I make a mental note to volunteer right after the female name is reaped.

I get up and look in the mirror by my bedside. _Oh, God… _

During the night my long brown hair has decided make a little knot just above my eyes, so you can barely see the light blue irises trying to peek out. I grab the brush from my nightstand and try desperately to comb through my hair. It's no use for me… but maybe I can get a little help.

"Mom!" I yell. She opens the door to my room without knocking.

"Yes, oh soon to be the next victor of the Hunger Games one?" she asks. I smile. Mom loves to bring that up ever since I decided to volunteer this year.

"Can you help me brush my hair?" I ask.

She look at the "rat's nest" on my head and frowns. When I was little I used to wonder what a rat's nest was. Dad said it was the nest of an animal that lives in the lower Districts. Then I asked why a nest was on my head. He told me it was a figure of speech.

"I can try," she said doubtfully.

Half an hour later she succeeded. My hair now looks somewhat normal. However, there's little time left before I get to the reaping. Mom knows this too, so she quickly ties my hair back in a ponytail with a sapphire jeweled hair pin.

"Thanks," I tell her. "I'm going to get dressed now. You can head down to the reaping if you like. We'll say our real goodbye's in the Justice Building." She nods and goes downstairs to gather the family who must already be dressed.

I quickly strip out of my night-clothes and slip into the dress that was already lying at the foot of my bed. It's a simple T-shirt dress, but I like it. I tie the ribbon in the middle into a knot. I put on the black flats that were also at the foot of my bed, and run down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out the door of my house.

I run all the way to the town square where there's a stage set up, and all the victors are there along with the mayor and an escort from the Capitol. There are two glass balls filled with paper slips. One is for the boys' names. The other is for the girls' names.

I run to the 15-year-old section of eligible kids. I take a deep breath and wait for the excitement to begin. The mayor gets up and announces the Hunger Games. The crowd cheers for a while, and then we settle down.

The mayor reads off the victors of District One. There must be at least ten, so far. Then, he introduces our escort, Gee Moon. His hair is dyed silver, and his skin is covered in some sort of white powder.

"Happy Hunger Games!" he announces. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" The crowd breaks into applause once more. "Now I will call the female tribute up to the stage. If anyone wishes to volunteer, they must say so after the name is told to everyone."

I brace myself. I look back at my parents; they are giving me the thumbs up sign. Then, I look to Garna. She is staring at me with sad eyes and shaking her head.

Gee sticks his hand into the women's ball. He pulls out a slip of paper. He clears his throat to say her name. "Sparkle Fille!"

Before anyone else can do anything, I raise my hand and scream at the top of my lungs, "I VOLUNTEER!" I run to the stage and proudly overlook the crowd. Everyone's faces are shocked, except my parents who are just as proud as me, and my sister who is sobbing.

"What is your name?" asks Gee.

I smile. I've already become a contender in these Games. "My name is Killian Taylor."

**Flame Worx**

I can hardly wait for the male tribute's name to be called. The girl tribute is small, but she has a certain determined smile that makes me believe she would be a good ally. Maybe we can become part of the newly-formed Career pack.

That Moon guy smiles and claps his hands gleefully, much like a small child who was thrilled with a new game or toy. "Congratulations, Killian Taylor, female tribute of District One. Can I get a round of applause?" The audience claps.

"And the male tribute is…" says Moon guy in his Capitol accent. He reaches into the men's ball. "Alabaster Hearth!" he tries to say dramatically. I practically jump up when volunteering.

"I volunteer!" I yell at the same time someone else does, but I make it to the stage before him. "I'm Flame Worx!" I scream before Gee even asks me for it. The audience claps for me, too.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the tributes of District One!" announces Gee, obviously trying to bring the attention back to him.

The Treaty of Treason is read by the mayor, but I'm not paying attention. I'm already imagining my homecoming after I win. I'm imagining the fame and the riches. I'm imagining all the luxuries of the Capitol right here at home.

Killian and I are told to shake hands. "May the best tribute win," I mutter, hoping this will scare her.

She just smirks at me. "I plan to," she says, and we're whisked away to custody. The room I sit in isn't unlike the one at home. My parents visit, crying about how much they love me. All I can think is _whatever._

My friends come to visit. They slap me on the back. They tell me hopefully my training will pay off. I know it will. Too soon, they're asked to leave. Then, I'm taken to the train we'll be riding. There are cameras everywhere.

I could get used to this.


	2. The Deaf and the Bloodthirsty

**Rosemarie Callahan**

Aeava's lips form her words slowly, so I can read them better. _"Storm," _she seems to be saying, _"We had better head to the reaping." _ The reaping. Just the thought of it makes me shudder.

My dress is already on. I can hardly believe I look this fancy. Who wants a gorgeous white vintage outfit if they only get to wear it once?

My fingers start tugging at the edge of my French braid like they always do when I get nervous. I wince as I end up yanking a strand of hair out, but later take the opportunity to examine it, procrastinating. I weave it around my hand. The fiery red catches the sun.

I feel a small tug towards the hip of my dress. Aeava must be ready to go. I grab her hand and tug her along the way to the square. The walking isn't far, but as we start reaching our destination, I begin to wish it is.

Of course, my wishes never come true, and we arrive in front of a stage. There are many groups of gossiping teens, but I belong with none of them. A girl my age walks up to me. She has black hair and blue eyes. She is as pale as Snow White. I recognize her. I hate her.

She gives me a sickly sweet smile. Two girls come to stand behind her. Apparently, once you start training for the Games, you get you own pack of goons that follow you around and back you up during a fight.

I let go of Aeva's hand and push her towards the 12-year-old end. I need to handle Beatriz on my own. "What do you want?" I ask her when Aeva is a safe distance away. I hope my voice isn't shaking.

_"Well,"_ she over-enunciates. Her posse's shoulders are moving up and down. They must be snickering. _"I just wanted to let you know that the girls and I have decided that we won't mess up your big moment if you get reaped. We know how much you love the Games."_

I scowl and stalk over to an empty corner in the 18-year-old section. I hate Beatriz and whoever the creeps who follow her around are. For some reason, they find it they're life goal to humiliate me. They call me psychic-girl. Usually I wouldn't be offended by that, but one can't help but be offended by anything that comes out of Beatriz's mouth.

The reaping is beginning. The first to stand is the mayor, who talks about what an honor it is to send our children into the Games. We hear this speech every year. He gives a brief history lesson about Panem, and then he announces all the victors. So far, there must have been at least fifteen. He introduces the escort, Sparkie Zenza. She literally looks like a disco ball. There are sparkles plastered all over her skin and hair.

She speaks about what a pleasure it is to be here; what escorts usually talk about, but she moves her lips so fast I can't read them. Then she says a bit slower, _"Ladies first!" _She trots over to what I assume is the female reaping ball. She pulls out a slip, and reads the name so fast I can't tell what she's saying again.

I start wishing. I wish for it to not be Aeva. All of a sudden, the group of eligible kids is pushing me up to the stage. Did she call my name, or are they just messing with me? I look to Aeva for reference. She's not looking at me. She's crying. I am really going into the Hunger Games.

One of my wishes finally came true.

**Jamie Boslan**

She's deaf, and she doesn't stand a chance. But who can stand a chance against me? This kid will just be one of the easier targets to take out. Then, I can actually have fun with these Games.

The escort asks for volunteers. I see some girls in the sixteen-year-old range snicker. No one volunteers for the deaf girl, which makes me that much more positive she'll die on the first day. The escort asks for applause, and the audience claps politely.

Then, she's walking toward the male glass ball. She grabs a slip. I prepare myself to volunteer. "The lucky District Two male tribute is… Jamie Bosland!" she yells in her squeaky voice.

I run up to the stage before anyone can shout, "I volunteer!" She asks for volunteers, and I give the eligible kids a death glare. No one steps up. I smile, happy with myself. Our escort is happy, too.

"Let us hear one bigger round of applause for our District Two tributes, Rosemarie Callahan and Jamie Bosland!" The audience claps again, but more enthusiastically this time. I pump my fist in the air as the Peacekeepers take us to the Justice Building.

My mother is the first one to visit me in custody. She says my father will be coming separately. It's weird- she's not sad or crying like I imagined she would be. It seems like she's grieving on the inside, but for me she's giving a stiff upper lip.

When the Peacekeepers come to tell her she needs to leave, she attaches her favorite coin to my leather necklace. "Wear it proudly," she says. She walks off. Next my dad comes in, and he pats me and the back and tells me to make sure I win, or there will be consequences. _Isn't that the truth…_

**Okay, so this isn't like the Chapter 2 I had in my other story that FF put down. I changed a word or two. Therefore, it can't be taken down on the account of it being the same as my other interactive story. A big thanks to my only reviewer: stagewriter (Btw, I love the username!). Also, I'd like to thank MyrtleFalls, who has given me ideas for later chapters that I haven't posted yet. Another big thanks to Moonlit Kit who created Rosemarie and to Vccle10 who created Jamie. Until next update (which should be tomorrow)!**


	3. Prepared or Unprepared?

**Rhea Pine**

My alarm clock goes off, and I'm immediately alert. I have five minutes to defuse it before goes off in a major stink-bomb explosion. I tried to turn it off once. It didn't go very well. I won't elaborate on it, but let's just say my room smelled for days.

My hand works quickly, attaching, detaching, and reattaching wires. _Red to blue… no, it's red to gold… _I have thirty seconds left before it goes off in my face. I used to take cover, but this time I know I can do it. Now there are fifteen seconds left. There are ten seconds left.

_Gold to blue… _I think hopefully. I clip the two wires together and hide under my bed, waiting for the explosion and the awful smell, but nothing comes. I peek my head out and take another sniff. My room smells fine. _I did it! _

I practically skip down the stairs to get breakfast. Hopefully there are eggs. Mom makes the best eggs. I reach the end of the stairs and enter the closest door to left, the kitchen.

Mom did make eggs! She's laying them out for me on my favorite plate right now, along with skim milk. I sit down at my seat and smile up at her. "Good morning, Mom," I say. "Thanks for making breakfast."

She envelops me in a tight hug. "Only the best for me little Rhea!" she squeals. My little sister, Eden, rolls her eyes.

"Mom, I'm sixteen. That's not little," I tell her. She sniffs. Mom isn't really as calm as I am about the reaping. I know if worst comes to worst, I'll be reaped and no one will volunteer, but I can win. I'm sure of it. I've been practicing vital skills needed for the Games for a long time. Those dumb Careers will never see it coming.

"I know, I know," she replies quietly. "BUT I'LL JUST MISS YOU SO MUCH IF YOU HAVE TO GO!" She's getting herself worked up. She buries her head in her hands and sobs. I've been through this enough times to know that all you have to do is give her time and she'll shut up.

Eden gets out of her chair and walk over to Mom. She gives me a look that basically says, _I've got this, _and I'm grateful. You can always count on a sister to be there for you. I smile at her. Eden is basically me in miniature. Her golden-brown hair is a bit shorter than mine, I admit, but her eyes are wonderfully unique, like mine. They're blue on the outside, green in the middle, and a ring of brown encircles the pupil.

Dad comes downstairs with a huge smile on his face. He directs it towards me. He must've noticed my room didn't smell like a stink bomb. I return his smile. I know now that Dad's here, I'll have to hurry eating so we can get in his daily hunting training before the reaping.

I shovel the eggs in my mouth, not bothering to savor the taste. Dad does the same. Then I gulp down my milk and run upstairs to get dressed. I won't have much time to change before the reaping starts, so I just wear a skirt and a tank-top. I zip up my favorite leather boots and run downstairs. Dad should be down any minute.

Dad comes running down the stairs without me having to wait for him. I give one last hug to Eden and Mom before running out the door with Dad. We try to look inconspicuous as we walk through the deserted streets to the edge of District Three where there's a small patch of woods.

There's a fence, and it's supposed to electrified, but no one ever bothers to. Why would they? Who in District Three would need to hunt? We all live at least middle-class lives.

The fence isn't too hard to scale. You just have to place your hands and feet in the right places. I've been doing this since the age of twelve, so I climb the fence with ease.

I haven't needed too many tips after being in the woods for a few years, but it's always nice to brush up on former skills I haven't practiced in a while.

I jump down from the fence and land in the woods. The only thing separating my father and me from District Two right now is a fence on the other side of the woods, but we don't dare go over it. We don't need Peacekeepers all over our backs.

Hunting doesn't go as quickly as I would've liked it to, but it's good to spend quality time with Dad. He prepares me everything in life.

After making our catch and dropping it off in the small tree hole, we walk back into town, which is now crowded with people heading to the reaping. The reaping isn't exactly a celebrated thing in District Three. No tribute has ever won, and we mostly die in the Bloodbath along with District Six.

Dad kisses me on the top of the head and walks over to the adults and children section of the square. I walk to the sixteen-year-old section. I gulp, trying to keep down my nerves. Mayor Wood gives a brief history of Panem and the Hunger Games; then he introduces the new District Three escort, Seen Dere. He is practically a rainbow of colors. He's younger, maybe's he in his early twenties, and he looks excited.

"Hello people of District Three!" he cheers. Is he genuinely happy to be here? "Happy Hunger Gamed and may the odds be _ever _in your favor. It looks like he expects applause or something, but no one really ever claps in District Three.

"First, I shall choose the male from District Three, because the females always go first." Was that his attempt as a joke?

He sticks a hand in the male ball. "The male tribute is…" he pulls out a slip, "Eclectic Zing!" A lanky boy with glasses with glasses walks up to the stage.

"Now I shall announce the female tribute!" he calls. His hand is in the female glass ball. He's grabbed onto a slip and is pulling it out. "The female tribute is… Rhea Pine!"

I gulp and walk up to the stage. All my bravado from this morning is gone, and is replaced with the realization that I may not go back home.

**The male from District Three is a Bloodbath tribute, so I'm not going to bother with him. I'd like to give thanks Vccle10, who created Rhea. I would also like to thank no one. Yes, you see no one has graciously reviewed the last chapter. As nice as that is, I would prefer it if more people reviewed this time.**


	4. The Heart Won't Go On

**Flora Harper**

_Up, down, up, down. _ Someone's weight is coming on and off the mattress. _Up, down, up, down. _I can already tell who it is. _Up, down, up, down. _I decide to wait for just the right moment to surprise those two little pranksters. _Up, down, up, down- NOW! _

I jump from a laying position to my feet, so I'm standing on my bed, and I scream as loud as I can. My little brothers scream, too, and they stop bouncing and start falling.

Ripley and Tide hit the floor; each emits a little _oof _while doing so. Ripley sits up and rubs his back where he fell. "Sorry, Flora," he says. "Mom said you had to get up. She has a dress ready for you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Does she have breakfast?"

The twins smile. "Yeah," says Ripley, "and we'll eat it all if you don't come downstairs." Tide nods eagerly.

"You're on!" I shout, and since I'm already on my feet, and the twins are sitting, I use that time to gain a head-start. I bound down the stairs, determined to get breakfast while the boys are at my heels, calling my name.

I trip at the bottom, and crash into the table. Ripley and Tide follow behind me, but they trip over my body and land sprawled on the floor next to me. I sit up and run towards the table, gaining an advantage once again.

I sit at my usual spot and grab an egg with a fork while I sip the water that has already been poured. The boys walk in soon, and they sit on either side of me.

"I win!" I sing to them.

"We'll get you next time!" shouts Ripley, and Tide nods with a certain determination in his eyes. They both grab eggs with their hands and chow down without even touching a fork or knife.

I roll my eyes. Mom and Dad aren't here, so they must be getting a head start on their work. I shout across the house to Mom, "I'M DONE WITH BREAKFAST! CAN I SWIM BEFORE I GET READY FOR THE REAPING?"

I hear a faint "no" from Mom. I sigh and figure I'll just have to get the dress from her. I walk into her room. I was right; she is working. Without looking up, she points to the pink dress hanging on the door.

I pick it up and walk back to my room. I put the dress on. It's pretty and only a little bit itchy, unlike the dress I wore last year. That thing was ugly and extremely itchy. I looked like I had fleas the whole time.

I slip out of my pajamas and into the dress. It goes a bit past my feet, but I shouldn't have too much trouble walking with it if I keep it up past my heels.

I walk downstairs. It seemed Ripley and Tide followed me up, because they're standing outside my door when I open, and they're dressed in clean clothes! I never would have thought they'd ever dress that way…

I smile weakly at them, and then I get nervous like I do every time we have the reaping. Only this time it's not just me to worry about. I have to worry about Ripley and Tide, too. They've just reached the eligible age for them to be reaped, and it's not like I could take their place in the Games.

We walk downstairs in silence. We know we're all thinking about the reaping and what we should do if one of us gets reaped. I slip on the high brown clogs. Ripley and Tide already have their shoes on. We'll meet Mom and Dad in the square. So we leave.

The entire walk to the stage is silent. No one wants to talk, because then there might be a chance of tears, and it's never good to show emotion on the reaping. Mostly we just turn our face into a dead-pan and wait for it to be over.

We reach the square. Everyone else is already there. Now is the time to say a goodbye to Ripley and Tide, but I can't seem to find it in my heart to let go of their hands. They let go for me. A strangled sort of cry comes out of my throat, but I quickly smother it with my hand. I bend down to hug them.

We walk to the separate section of the eligible children. Too soon, the reaping begins, and the mayor is at the podium talking about the Hunger Games and the history of our country.

He reads off the list of victors (we've had about five so far), and then he introduces the escort we've had for three years straight, Amelia VonButch. She has the same ugly sort of sneer on her face like she did in past years. "Hello people of District Four!" she calls. Her voice lacks the Capitol accent but it still sounds ugly.

"Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!" the crowd claps politely and she continues. "I am now going to choose the female tribute from this District." She sticks her hand in the ball and reads the name off a slip.

"The female tribute is Flora Harper!"

**Alex Kohtalon**

The girl with wavy bronze hair moves trembling to the stage. "Does anyone want to volunteer for this poor girl?" asks VonButch. The crowd answers with silence. "In that case, the female tribute of District Four is Flora Harper!"

The crowd gives a small clap. A few people (I'm guessing her family) are crying. VonButch moves over to the ball with the male slips. "Now I will call the male tribute of District Four!"

She's about to stick her hand in the ball when I get over excited and yell out before she can call the name: "I volunteer!" She seems fazed by this but is allowing it, so I run up to the stage.

"What is your name?" she asks.

"My name is Alex Kohtalon," I say.

She smirks at me. It almost makes me want to shudder. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Flora Harper and Alex Kohtalon, the tributes of District Four!"

The crowd claps again. The mayor reads the Treaty of Treason after we shake hands, but I'm not listening. I don't think anyone ever listens. I'm looking at the faces of the crowd, but more importantly the faces of the kids from my foster home.

Some of their faces are happy like they can't wait to see me die. Some of their faces are scared, like they know I'll bully them even more if I get back. The owners of the foster home look relieved, like they're not sad to see the back of me.

Only one face of a foster child is sad. A girl I recognize as Willa Jean. Her brown eyes are looking down and are brimmed with tears. Her lip comes out in a pout. Maybe I'm just mistaking her expression for sad when it's really scared.

I dismiss the thought as that when I'm taken away to the Justice Building. The chairs in here are nice, and so is the table. I prop my feet up on the table as I sit back in the chair. No one's going to come visit me, and that really doesn't bother me a whole lot.

It surprises me when I do get one visitor. Willa Jean walks right in and sits across from me on another chair. The Peace Keeper closes the door. She looks over me once then asks: "Why did you volunteer?"

"Why do you want to know?" I shoot right back. She just raises an eyebrow and I shrug. "I guess I volunteered because I felt I had nothing to lose. Why did you come visit me?"

She flips a blonde curl out of her face and looked down. "I did have something to lose," she whispered.

"What?" I ask, confused.

She sighs. "Listen, I know the hearts only job is supposed to be to pump blood, but my heart keeps getting into my brain's business, and I really, really like you."

I'm stunned for a moment, and then I remember I'm supposed to say something. For a second, I don't know what to say, so I give it some thought. I guess Willa always had been my favorite foster sibling, and now I was going away and that would break her heart if I died.

I'm going away anyway, so I decide to give her a good see-you-soon present. I swing my legs off the table, lean forward, and kiss her.

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long! I haven't gotten many reviews, and they help. So review! Until District Five, my friends! **


	5. The Mutant

**Belladonna**

_I am eavesdropping outside the door to my father's lab. My little brother Johnason squeezes my hand. "I'm scared for Mommy," he whispers._

_ I'm scared for her, too. Who knows what Father will do to her in there? But if I start to panic, Johnason will follow, so I simply put one finger over my lips and press my ear against the door harder._

_ I can't make out a lot. All I can hear is mostly murmuring and the occasional step. I feel like I've been listening for hours when the air buzzes with electricity and a high-pitched scream comes from the lab._

_ I don't care if Father knows I've been listening to him and Mom the whole time. I turn the knob and swing open the door. There is Mom on the floor. There is no rise and fall of breath. I don't even have to ask for my fears to be confirmed: she is dead._

_ Johnason starts crying. I don't believe yet. It feels like the moment has been forever paused. I try to see what Father is feeling by his face. I can't tell, for his head is down and his face masked._

_ The scene changes._

_ I'm sitting on a wooden chair in Father's lab. He's attached wires to my arms. I gulp. I don't want to be doing this, but it was either me or Johnason. "Are you sure about this Father?" I manage to ask._

_ "I'm positive," he says. I nod, unconvinced that I won't be dead after he presses the power button. I take a look at the thirteen-year-old in the full-length mirror. She looks so normal. I have long dark brown hair and dark brown eyes at the time._

_ Father presses the power button. I feel a short jolt of pain, and then I look down. I'm still alive. So if I haven't died, what has happened to me? I look at the mirror again. The girl I see now is so much different than the girl I saw last time._

_ The girl I see now has long midnight-black hair with blue and red eyes that align like the yin-yang symbol. I look to Father, surprised and a bit scared. "It worked," he says with a smile._

_ The scene changes._

_ Johnason is a sickly green. His coughs are wet and thick. I am sitting by his bed-side. The doctor has just left. Apparently, Johnason has leukemia. Father experimented with him last year, and now he looks like me, only I'm not green._

_ He's holding my hand like he did right before Mom died. I sit with him until he's breathing slows, indicating he's asleep. I walk quietly to the lab. It's not going to be Father's lab anymore. I'm going to find a cure for my brother._

_ I sit down at the table in the same wooden chair I sat in five years ago. I pick up one of Father's chemistry books and flip to the "Antidotes" section when Father walks in. He sees me with the book and raises an eyebrow._

_ "I'm going to find a cure," I tell him matter-of-factly. He chuckles and puts a hand on my shoulder._

_ "I admire your thinking, but there is no cure for his illness. The only option he has is to die." I open my mouth in protest, and I can already feel the conflicting emotions rising up inside of me, but I know that there is no time to waste. An eight-year-olds immune system can't fight off leukemia for long._

_ The scene changes._

_ I'm standing in front of Johnason's grave. It's raining, but that fine with me; it helps to cover up my tears. Father is standing next to me. He looks down at the grave and shakes his head. "I told you there was no way you could save him," he says._

_ "Aren't you sorry your son is dead?" I growl._

_ He shakes his head again. "Not exactly. One cannot get too fond of anything or they will be sad to see it go, like you._

_ I'm shaking, but not from the cold. He's not sorry his own flesh and blood is gone. I think of Mom's dead body on the floor. Later I learned he wasn't sorry at all. My emotions have been having a battle, and it seems anger has won._

_ I shove my hand in my coat pocket and grasp the syringe filled with poison that I brought just in case…_

I awake with a gasp and I feel my forehead. Cold sweat has formulated there. I pull the covers over my head and shiver for a while, and then I get up to see what time it is.

I pull open the shades. It's still dark out, but it's always dark out in District Five, so I would judge the time to be around 1 p.m. The sun doesn't rise until about 1:30.

I can't believe I slept that long. This means I only have half an hour to get ready, which is plenty of time, of course, but I always like to get out before the reaping. Oh well.

The house has been so ominous since Johnason died. The wind seems to be blowing more around the cracks more often. I'm not exactly scared, but the sound always makes me feel unnerved.

I dress before getting breakfast, since I'm not too hungry. I pick out some clean clothes from my dresser and end up choosing a black sweater that I can wear over the tank-top I have on now, a pair of light-denim jeans, and black leather boots.

I pull the sweater on, and strip off my nigh-pants before putting on the jeans. I sit down on the wooden chair I've grown so fond of lately to pull on my boots and zip them up. I pull a black headband of the top of the dresser and fix my hair back with it.

The house I live in is one-story (not including the lab in the basement), so I don't have to walk down any stairs to get to the kitchen. I turn on the light when I walk in, because I can't stand being in the dark for another minute.

I grab cashews from under the cupboard and start nibbling on them. If I eat a real breakfast, I'll probably just throw it all up at the reaping I'm so nervous.

I fill a glass already on the table with water and drink it down. Then it is time to go. I force myself up and walk out of the house and to the town square. The sun is just rising over the gloomy District. I stand in the eighteen-year-old section and wait for the reaping to begin.

Now I feel even the cashews were too much to eat. This is my last year being eligible for the reaping. "Hello people of District Five!" squeals the cheery escort we've had since last year. She looks exactly the same: bright yellow hair, washed-out purple skin, and an odd sense in jewelry. It seems this year she's decided to wear a suit instead of a dress.

"Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever _in your favor!" her voice is high-pitched it's almost hurting my ears. I'm tempted to cover them, but I resist the urge. She walks right up to the glass ball with the male names.

She calls out Doctorial Edenburg. A young boy walks up to the stage, and no one volunteers. I can't help but notice how much he would look like Johnason if he was still alive. He's not trembling, so I put him down as a possible ally if I get reaped.

Our escort walks over to the glass ball with female slips. She pulls out a slip and reads the name into her microphone.

And I was right to worry, because no one is going to volunteer for me.

**Oh, it's been a long time, hasn't it? I'm sorry to have kept you guys waiting, but, seriously, review would help the speed. Reviews inspire me.**


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